"Dafydd ab Hugh, Brad Linaweawer DOOM: Infernal Sky (english)" - читать интересную книгу автора

rope so I tied one end to a heavy safe and the other
around my waist and clambered out the window
pronto.
Luck was with me. Fly and I disagree about luck: he
thinks you make your own; I think you're lucky or
you're not. The ledge was so narrow that I couldn't
imagine Fly negotiating it. The stupid little lifeline
came apart before my hand was on one of those
beautiful, thick, inviting ropes.
I shouted my patented war cry, based on all the
westerns I'd seen when I was a kid, and jumped the
rest of the way. I knew I'd better be right about luck.
I swung far out and heard a long creaking sound
overhead, which was fine with me as long as it wasn't
followed by a loud snap. Just a steady creaking, as the
rope settled into supporting my weight. I didn't waste
a moment swinging over to a sturdy-looking cable
chain. I didn't trust the chain, so I tested it out. The
damned thing snapped, and I hung over L.A, like an
advertisement, glad for the rope. My left hand was
covered with rust. I would have thought that the chain
would outlast the rope, but maybe some of the links
were caught in a random energy beam.
A lot of stuff raced through my mind. I filed most of
it for future reference—if I had a future. The stuff
overhead reminded me of the last time I was aboard
ship—on the ocean instead of in space, I mean. The
only reason I wasn't splattered all over the street
below was that the window-washing equipment was
securely attached on the roof. I hoped no alien energy
burst had done any damage up there.
"Fly!" I yelled.
"Coming, coming, coming!" he shouted back.
There was no double entendre in either of our minds.
My bud would either be a fly on the wall out here or a
squashed bug inside.
He chose fly on the wall.
I made like Tarzan, or maybe I should say Sheena of
the Jungle, and swung over toward the window. The
scaffolding held. Fly held on. As he leaped out the
window, a red claw the size of his head missed
severing his jugular vein by an inch. I couldn't believe
I used to feel sorry for the Minotaur trapped in the
lair until Theseus came to put him out of his misery.
I'd never look at those old myths the same way.
We started down. The ropes wouldn't get us to
ground level, but half a loaf is better than none. If we
could descend below the monsters we might have a
chance to hoof it down to the street before they could
catch up with us. I was counting on their habit of